


Uh oh... 2

by FalseProphet (Batmanthegroomer)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers, Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Cybertron Realized, Transformers: More than Meets the Eye
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:19:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batmanthegroomer/pseuds/FalseProphet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes a vast difference in size with your interfacing partner leads to trouble in the berth...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uh oh... 2

**Author's Note:**

> Cyclonus and Tailgate drabble for innermostenergon on Tumblr.
> 
> Time Period: Post War, months after the launch of the Lost Light, post Delphi
> 
> Misc: While this subject may be 'gross' or 'gruesome' to some, it's supposed to be funny.

Tailgate’s body practically withered against Cyclonus’ broad chest. The much smaller Cybertronian gripped the seam at his berthmate’s clavicle and whimpered at a slight pinch in his interfacing array. He shifted as Cyclonus thrust into him again and hesitated.

“Are you close?” Cyclonus whispered. He hadn’t intended to sound so dirty but he was looking for the cause of the sudden quiver and squeeze from the blue and white mech’s valve.

“Mmmm, yes.” Tailgate mumbled in little more than a beep. His cheeks flushed red with hot energon. Such a question! He felt his valve clamp down again and earned a dark groan from Cyclonus.

The flier spread the fingers of one hand along Tailgate’s back while the other hand remained curled at a hip joint. He bucked his hips up forcefully, large spike constricted more than usual in his partner’s tiny valve. Not that he was complaining.

Tailgate hid his face against Cyclonus’ neck and moaned out a long sob as overload washed through him. His vocals were still straining as he felt the pop which signaled Cyclonus had climaxed as well.

The larger mech leaned back to rest against the wall, pulling Tailgate with him. His partner’s valve was still spasming sightly so he moved to gently lift Tailgate off his spike.

His fingers clenched at the hip under them as Tailgate mewled rather pitifully… And did not move from his penetrated position.

“I’m starting to get sore,” Cyclonus growled cautiously, “you need to let go.”

“L-let go?” Tailgate whispered, un-masked faceplates hidden against Cyclonus’ neck cables. “I’m… I’m not holding on.”

“Yes. You are.” Cyclonus huffed, attempting once more to move Tailgate. Both mechs took in a sharp intake of breath at the pulling sensation. It was a rather painful vice-like-grip they found themselves stuck in.

Tailgate’s optic visor flashed and he moved away from Cyclonus’ chest slightly. He braced his peds on the berth and attempted to move himself with no more success. He glanced quickly to Cyclonus.

Cyclonus’ expression was—as always—rather hard to read. Internally the flier did not want to admit to himself he knew what was wrong. He’d heard about this before—and maybe once in his long function cycle he’d also experienced it. He let out a long hiss of air.

He gripped Tailgate’s hips again and prepared to pull as hard as he could. Unfortunately he made the mistake of letting his optics settle too long on a white and flushed faceplate.

Tailgate cocked his helm to the side as Cyclonus let out a long groan.

“Cyclonus?”

“This isn’t going to be pleasant.” Cyclonus sighed with angry resolve. “Once we’re separated, call a medic.”

“Wh-what?” Tailgate asked, hopelessly confused and more than a little embarrassed.

Cyclonus reached slowly between them with a clawed hand. He gently slid one finger into Tailgate’s valve alongside his own spike. He could feel more acutely the angled pressure of the broken calipers at Tailgate’s valve walls. His finger brushed against his spike and he took in a slow, steady breath.

Tailgate let out a loud yelp as Cyclonus’ finger moved quickly within him. He heard Cyclonus growl and bite back a moan. Tailgate glanced down at a growing pool of energon between them and shifted off of Cyclonus’ lap.

“What…?” Tailgate whispered studying the small puncture in Cyclonus’ spike. “Cyclonus…” He glanced up only to find his larger partner off-line. He quickly put a hand on Cyclonus’ faceplate and remembered the order given to him.

~R-ratchet?~ He comm.ed privately, moving to kneel next to Cyclonus.

~Tailgate? What are you doing comm.ing me at this hour? Is everything all right?~

~I’m not sure… Uh… I think we need you.~

~We?~

~Cyclonus and I. We were—uh—we were… interfacing and got stuck. I don’t know what he did but there’s a lot of energon and-and…~

~Primus! You too?! I’ll be right there.~

Tailgate frowned. Too?


End file.
